Vassall of Rome
by stilljustme
Summary: Tags to various episodes of season three, all about Micheletto.
1. Lullaby

**As with season three, Micheletto became my absolute favorite character of this show. I hadn't realized before there was so much in him besides being Cesare's closest servant – but wow, there is. Reviews are always very welcome.**

He had killed babies in their bed before, if their parents had paid him to do it. Those hadn't been his proudest deeds, but pride had long ago abandoned him.  
>After thirteen days on the streets of Forlí, chased by dogs, freezing, hungry… so hungry, it had fled Micheletto. Something older, stronger had taken over his weak body: the unconditional will to survive. It made him able to get out of the city and into the woods. And from there on further… till he arrived at hell's entrance on earth, the house of demons, hidden as God's greatest temple. The irony of this was clear even to the assassin, but he could not care less. If God had even been, someone had certainly murdered him.<p>

Death had become a close companion early in the assassin's life; his elder brother Paolo being killed by his wife's brother, his sister drowned in a flood, his parents choked to death on fever and poison… he had never found out who had paid for their death, nor what had happened to Paolo's little son.

The child had been of Giovanni's age when Micheletto had run for his life, leaving his name, his honor and his soul behind.

He had killed babies in their beds, and every time he did so, his nephew's face appeared before him. It was a nice alternation to look after Giovanni, to protect innocent life instead of killing it. The child did not know who he was nor how he earned his living. All he knew yet was that Micheletto was one of the people carrying him around and making him laugh; and that he sang for him when he wouldn't fall asleep without his mother.

He had turned to singing the children to sleep before he killed them. At least once in their life they should feel safe. Sometimes Micheletto even found comfort in his actions: whatever came after death, if anything, it could not be worse than being cast out and live the life he had lived.  
>What good was a beating heart if there was nobody to give it to?<p>

Giovanni lazily opened one eye, spotted the familiar red beard, and squealed with tired satisfaction before he nestled deeper in Micheletto's arms and fell asleep again.

Innocent of his mother's, uncle's and grandfather's sins.  
>Unknowing poison, pain or loneliness.<br>Safe and sound, as a child should be.

As he almost shyly kissed the infant's forehead Micheletto swore to himself that it would stay that way.


	2. The same

**3x4 "The Banquet of chestnuts". Quotes from the episode are in italics.**

It was the first time he left the city on his own for more than a year, and his horse seemed as thrilled about it as himself, galloping through the fresh autumn air, mud and grass hurtling from under the hooves. Later on he would have to slow down and leave it behind, but at the moment speed was more important than secrecy. Versucci had more than a whole day in advance, and his age would not slow him down as much as the pope seemed to think.  
>Micheletto had ceased to wonder about the Borgia's condescending and misprizing others. The pope was not much younger than the former cardinal, and still weak from the poison, but he was sure that his arm was longer than the legs of a man who ran for his life.<p>

It didn't matter, anyway. Micheletto had not earned his master's trust by failure.  
>Versucci had decided to avenge himself, probably the first act of cunning in his life. Now he would pay for it. It was an easy enough equation to solve.<p>

No guards greeted the assassin as he entered the old bathhouse in the morning. This, and the fact that the abbess had pointed him the way without further questions confirmed his suspicion. Versucci was waiting for him.

It was not until he saw the water reddening underneath the old man's body that Micheletto realized just _how_ cunning the former cardinal had become.

"You have found me?"  
>"Yes, my lord." Seeing that his work was already done, Micheletto stopped in the door. A feeling of respect for the man awoke but he forced it down, an action so often used it had become an instinct. Suppressing his emotions came natural, like breathing. Still, the recklessness of Versucci astonished him.<p>

"And the pope? What did he say? Was he hurt?" The weak voice grew greedy.  
>Micheletto straightened. <em>"Did you want to hurt him?"<em>  
><em>"Yes."<em>

A short wisp of relief filled the assassin. This was not a man he needed to respect. He was just as cruel as the family he had accused.  
>The family Micheletto had sworn his life, his death and what little was left of his soul.<p>

"_He laughed."_


	3. Heart

**For 3x5 - The wolf and the lamb**. **  
>Coming late, but: cbear - thank you very, very much for your reviews and thoughts.<strong>

"You will protect my sister from every harm. You will be her shadow as you are mine now, you will be her eyes, her ears and her sword if need be."  
>The command was simple enough, and spoken with such urgency that even if Micheletto had come to Rome only yesterday he would have understood the significance of the order. Serving various men throughout Italy had proved to him that everyone, how high he might think himself, had a weakness – something or someone his world centered on. None would call it "weakness" in his own case, but technically that was exactly what it was. And Cesare's weakness was his sister, the only person on earth he would not sacrifice for his family's and his own sake.<br>Or so Micheletto and, as her tear-dulled glance revealed, Lucrezia herself had expected. But now they were here, cut off from… home.  
>Home. Another weakness most people carried, but different from his master's love for the duchess of Bisceglie, this weakness was commonly accepted as a virtue. Patriotism, they called it, and let their armies fight over acres of land in the name of home. And the armies fought – because dying under a sword's blow was a gentler fate than to walk around homelessly.<p>

After leaving Forlí Micheletto had buried the yearning for home deep inside his heart, but it had eaten its way up quickly enough. A painfully pounding emptiness that made it impossible to live yet impossible to die.

When he had offered to work for the Pope's son Micheletto had thought about saving his own life, at the very moment but also for the following months – serving the mightiest brought the most enemies but still the most security – but not of home.  
>Not a second had he then dared to think about such a thing.<br>And maybe, the assassin realized as he looked down into the courtyard, if he wasn't sent away with Lucrezia, he would never have felt so deeply that he had a home after all.  
>And that it was Rome.<p>

"_There are some who even doubt I have a heart, my lady"_ he had told Cesare's sister on the way. He had not told her then that for some time he himself had doubted it.  
>Well, things had changed, and then they had changed again. As much as Micheletto appreciated Cesare's trust in him – to assign him with Lucrezia's safety was the biggest proof of that – it felt wrong to be in Naples.<p>

The creakingly opened door ended his broodings. With a light bow the bodyguard-turned assassin let his lady take his place.  
>Lucrezia's eyes, sharp now though red from crying, at once flew down to Ferdinand. The king didn't seem to notice his guest but was entirely absorbed in shooting arrows at straw figures – an occupation good enough for boys, not for men who ought to be trained for war. And especially not for kings who ought to lead their men in war. But such an ideal leader was another dream Micheletto had forgotten long ago.<p>

For some moments he stood silently in the shadow of the Pope's daughter, his glance flying restlessly between the people down and at the stairs and the lady. Cesare had not even tried to threaten him should he fail in his job to protect Lucrezia, because he dared not imagine anything happening to his… sister. Micheletto found his glance wandering to the young woman's neck and breasts and quickly looked away. It was not this sight that caused his blood to quicken but the thought of the lips who had kissed the soft skin. It was not his to judge, but the sharp pain that had stung Micheletto when he had seen Lucrezia stepping out of Cesare's bed chamber after her wedding night was enough. Without ever binding it to words he knew what had happened.

Lucrezia was no longer just his master's sister. She was his lover also, the purest form of love mingled with its most natural form.  
>Cesare had given him a part of his soul to care for, and Micheletto would defend and protect it – her – until his heart would stop beating.<p>

"_Have you a child, Micheletto?"_ Giving up the attempt of killing Ferdinand through hateful stares, Lucrezia looked at the man her brother had given to her.  
>Micheletto bowed again. <em>"No, I have none."<em>  
>She nodded slowly as if it was a surprise. How cruel the world had become since her gentle father had become the holy father of everyone. Her only friend, if she could ever call Micheletto that, was someone who would never understand her. A man, and a primitive one, yet Cesare trusted him. Micheletto had helped him kill Juan, and God knew how many more. Having him around reminded Lucrezia of her brother, almost as if he was near. She had to keep this man close, as a symbol for the man she loved more than almost anything else in the world.<p>

Almost. Not even the memory of Cesare's arms could drive Giovanni off her mind. _"But if you had…"  
>"I would bind them to me with iron bands and love them to death and beyond. And I would make tremble everyone who dared to come between us."<em> The rapid, ardent answer surprised her. Then she remembered. Whenever Cesare would visit and the nurse was gone, it was Micheletto who carried her son around and made him giggle or sleep. She had ignored that, shying away from the crudeness she had assumed in that man. Now, though…  
><em>"So you have a heart." <em>Lucrezia's voice had lost the fake lightness she had broken in since her first marriage, and as she looked at her brother's man – her man now – she let down her guard to where words were just a cage. The pain she felt knew no words, just tears and trembling fingers if she didn't hold herself together.  
>Like now.<br>With a gentleness she would not have expected Micheletto took her slightly trembling hand in his and kissed it as he knelt down in front of her. _"I must have." _His voice was rough with what Lucrezia was sure now to be the same loneliness she felt. _"It is the thought of the child kept from you his mother that makes it break."_  
>Not only this, she thought as she nodded slowly, and wondered how she had not seen it before. Perhaps because she had fought so hard not to see her own similar feelings. It was wrong, forbidden, damned by God and the people.<br>Neither mattered to Lucrezia right now.

If Micheletto's heart belonged to Cesare, the better for her.  
>She did not speak her wish nor veiled it in a glance as she had done often enough with men. Her hand on his arm would have to do – her hand that had touched Cesare, had stirred and had made him moan with pleasure.<br>Would the image of it stir the assassin? Enough to become _her_ assassin, too?

"Then we share the same love" she whispered, still not meeting Micheletto's eyes. "And the same loss."  
>Micheletto straightened. "My lady."<p>

And Lucrezia smiled – sweetly, as she hoped, and not as triumphant as she felt.

Another man that was hers.


	4. A thin line

The door was carelessly ajar, breathing out silence to the hallway. Micheletto froze at the corner, taking in the situation. He didn't need to enter the room to know it was empty.  
>What he didn't know was if Lucrezia had left voluntarily or if Ferdinand had finally had enough of her pleading and bargaining for Giovanni.<br>It wouldn't be wise to hurt Alfonso's bride, less wise even to hurt the Pope's daughter. But the king of Naples wasn't wise, and the Pope was far away, so what was the most likely place for his lady to be kept?

Anger pushed on his heartbeat as Micheletto quietly followed the hallway to the stairs that led to the great hall. Further down were the dungeons, the entrance to them hidden behind a statue. These rooms were hardly half the size of the dungeons beneath the papal palace, but that didn't mean they were any less cruel. And there were many ways to torture a person without leaving marks on their skin. Lucrezia Borgia was used to intrigues and injustice by now, but she had never known fear for her life, or hunger, or the smell of burnt flesh. Whether it was your own or your neighbor's, you never forgot that smell.  
>The dungeons were dark but that didn't mean a thing. Darkness could be torture as well.<p>

Without sun or stars all plants looked the same, and she had no idea how the herb she was looking for smelled. But she didn't dare light the lantern yet, not with the walls so close. Walls and bricks. It was almost funny how every wall had its weakness. Was it so hard to build a defense that didn't waver?  
>A cracking noise made her jerk. If her heart beat any faster she would probably faint, and in the morning Ferdinand would find her when he went hunting. "Will I be your prey or will you be mine first?" she whispered to herself as she knelt down in the high grass and finally lightened the candle. She had to take the risk if she wanted this done right. If even cantarella could be rendered innocuous, she had to be extremely careful with this poison. She had to be sure what she was doing… and better take more than less.<br>"Finally." As she saw the green capsules close to her knee Lucrezia felt an urge to pray. It brought a hysterical laughter over her lips - that being so close to commit a sin she felt so close to heaven.  
>She was a Borgia, she would not be defeated. And she would have her son with her.<p>

When she saw the shadow coming up from behind it was too late to move. Frozen Lucrezia stood as the man took the lantern from her hand and held it up.  
>It was obvious Micheletto's relief was as big as hers.<br>"God" she sighed, wondering how she still hadn't fainted. The green death in her hand seemed to make her more alive. "Micheletto, you frightened me."  
>His voice was collected. <em>"I've been charged with your safety, my lady. It was your empty room that frightened me." <em>  
>She smiled, but much less spiteful than she would have to any other man. "I didn't mean to frighten you, my knight. I just felt the need for fresh air."<br>Micheletto frowned. "I didn't notice there was a difference between the air inside or outside the walls."  
>Lucrezia tensed. Was he being stupid or actually mocking her? "Well, I did. There are some… advantages of free nature. And as far as I remember I am nobody's prisoner."<br>"And you'll never be, my lady, while I am with you. I promise." Micheletto bowed deeply.  
>When he stood straight again his glance fell on Lucrezia's fist, and his voice became even gentler. "You should not do that."<br>Anger at herself brought tears into her eyes but she forbade them to fall. "I want my son, Micheletto. He belongs to his mother, and I will have him and protect him! You said you would understand that."  
>"I do, my lady, as much as a man can understand such things." Micheletto frowned. There was a thin line between wishing for a man's death and asking for it, and as far as he knew Lucrezia had not yet crossed that line. Cesare had commanded him to be her sword, not her knife in the dark. Then again, a blade was a blade. If being the knife meant being protecting her from bringing herself into harm's way, he would do it.<br>If she asked him to.  
>"Please." He held out his hand, trying to read her expression through the dancing shadows of the flame.<br>Lucrezia hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she dropped the herbs into the assassin's waiting hand, following them with her eyes. "I want my son."  
>She looked up at him, and in her eyes he recognized himself – and the moment when he had crossed the line a lifetime ago.<br>"My lady?"  
>"I will have my son, Micheletto. This way or another."<p>

The king of Naples had been a plague when alive, but he died easily. There was no cry, no hatred, just terror – and the astonishment of having underestimated Rome.  
>Lucrezia was doing well playing the surprised relative. She didn't bother faking grief, though, and the doubts about calling for Giovannni vanished as soon as they had come. It had been a moment of regret, a moment of realizing what she had done – ordered a man's death. A king's death.<br>Micheletto knew better than to react to it, and before sunset Lucrezia had ordered her husband's men to bring her child to Naples.  
>Before leaving for Rome Pietro d'Alcagia, captain of Alfonso's guard, had found himself pushed against a wall, a knife at his throat.<br>"You will bring the child here safely and happily. If there is any sign of illness or bad treatment on your high lady's son, you will pay for it. I will make you bleed, and I will slaughter your children before your eyes." He had rarely made this threat before, and sworn to himself never to make it true, but d'Alcagia didn't need to know that. The soldier had no love for Alfonso and less for his wife, and so far he had never left Naples. The journey alone would be hard for the captain – the least Micheletto could do was making sure he would not forget his home.

"When will they arrive?" Knowing she would soon be reunited with her child had turned Lucrezia into a child as well.  
>"Soon."<br>"I want Giovanni to attend Ferdinand's funeral. He was a great king, after all. He should have a worthy escort to his tomb." Lucrezia smiled at her own voice. Soon everything would be perfect - she would have her son, and the man she loved, and she would stay here in Naples, far away from the ambitions of her family… far away from Cesare.  
>Here, maybe she could make an honest and decent living.<p>

Then again, she was a Borgia.

The morning of Ferdinand's funeral dawned red like blood. Red like Alfonso's eyes as he dressed. Despite everything his cousin had said and done, he seemed to have loved him. "Family", Lucrezia murmured bitterly as she wound ribbons of black silk through her hair. She had expected to be happier today, seeing her enemy buried. The monument above his corpse would be a monument of her first victory, but it didn't feel like a win yet.  
>More than once she caught herself looking out of the window, searching what little she could see of the horizon. Ten days. More than enough to get to Rome and back, even with a child, wasn't it? And Giovanni was healthy and strong for his age, so what was taking them so long?<br>"My love?" Alfonso's voice lacked the usual gentleness. Even without suspecting anything he knew his wife would shed no tear over the late king of Naples.  
>Lucrezia nodded absentmindedly and they went down the stairs, her arm lightly touching but not feeling his arms. She felt nothing, recently, nothing but the emptiness in her arms and heart.<p>

Then she saw him.  
>Clothed in white, staring at the new world around him with big eyes, from time to time moving his fingers as if to reach for anything. Lucrezia ran forward, cutting Prince Raphael's way (and therefore protocol) as she raced to Micheletto. When she took Giovanni from his arms Lucrezia realized how gentle his movements had become, how deep and kind the expression in his face was. There was no doubt, she knew with a small sudden spark of jealousy: Micheletto adored her son. In a way he would never adore her, maybe not even Cesare. She would not have to tell him to watch over Giovanni because Micheletto would rather die than let anything happen to the boy – without him ever uttering a word.<p>

"Thank you" the young woman whispered as she rocked her son in her arms. Giovanni was fine. And he was here.  
>Micheletto smiled in relief as Giovanni nestled against his mother's arms, yawned happily and looked around again. There was a whole new world to discover, a world of black-clothed people with solemn, sullen faces.<br>"Always" he said, directed rather to the child than the mother. In the promenade of death it seemed like a miracle to have a child with them, a little piece of the future. Someone worth staying in Naples for.  
>Till his master would call for him again, and Micheletto would follow.<p> 


	5. Goodbye

"So you return to Rome." Her chin was high but she couldn't avoid a note of jealousy in her voice.  
>"Yes, my lady. I will leave at once. Is there anything left I can do for you?"<br>Without turning around Lucrezia knew that Micheletto was bowing slightly when he answered. And that he would remain that way, head down, back bent just a little, for as long as she held her silence.  
>No, not really. Eventually he would stretch his back, turn around and go – leave her for Cesare who commanded his assassin home.<p>

Home. The softness of that word made Lucrezia feel weak with longing, and she straightened up even more. This was her home now, the court of Naples. She didn't need anybody, not even her brother, to shape a castle around her. She could live anywhere, and be happy, as long as she was with her son. She didn't need to be influenced and played with by her family, not again.  
>"The farer away, the better."<p>

"My lady?"  
>Lucrezia shook her head. "Nothing, Micheletto. Please bring my greetings to the Holy Father and to my mother, and to Giulia Farnese. Tell they're always welcome to visit me in my realm." This time, she let him feel the bitterness in her voice on purpose, even though it wasn't directed at him.<br>She turned around just in time to see the edge of a smile on her bodyguard's face. He had understood.

"And what do you want me to tell your brother?"

Suddenly Lucrezia was close to tears. She had seen before in Micheletto's eyes that he knew about her and Cesare, knew that their love was somewhat stronger than the church allowed for brother and sister to be. Funny how the children of the Holy Father of Christianity were damned by mother church.  
>Still, from what she else had seen in his eyes, Micheletto's heart was damned as well.<p>

"Tell Cesare" her tongue slipped almost carelessly over the name, having whispered it so often at night, "that I am going to be lonely without your company. Tell him his godson is healthy and happy and waiting for his uncle to visit him. And tell him…" She halted as she saw the discomfort in Micheletto's eyes.  
>"Am I asking too much, Micheletto?"<br>"Of course not, my lady." But his look betrayed him.  
>Lucrezia hid the guilt she felt creeping up under a knowing smile. "You don't like me playing with you."<br>Micheletto's face hardened. "_Are_ you playing with me, my lady?"  
>A chill went through the air, and it took Lucrezia a moment to realize that it was caused by the man's low voice. Beneath the devotion there was a threat, calmer and deadlier than every boasting of Ferrante or Giovanni Sforza.<br>This man was trained to murder.

"Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to frighten you." Micheletto caught her thoughts before they ended and gently took her hand to kiss it. "I am your servant as I am your brother's."  
>He was avoiding his master's name when it was possible, at least in front of Lucrezia. Without really understanding the feelings he had for Cesare, Micheletto knew that his lady would know them the moment his mouth tasted the name. Some words, eve great ones, were easily spoken. Heaven, hell, sin, those notions had lost their gravity.<br>But names were different.

"I know." Noticing that the assassin was turning into himself, Lucrezia dropped her façade and placed her hand on his arm. Surprised, Micheletto looked up.  
>"My lady?"<br>She felt herself smiling at the anxiety in his voice, and intensified the touch. "I know enough of the world to be thankful for a man as loyal and brave as you" she said as gently as she could. "I know you will protect Cesare as you protected me, and my son."  
>"Giovanni is lucky to have a mother as fierce as you are" he said, "may I…" he halted, hands closed to fists. In a matter of seconds every threat had gone out of the assassin, leaving him shy and strangely lost.<p>

Those things love could do to a person. Lucrezia shook her head, wondering how similar they were. Knowing that Micheletto loved Cesare and Giovanni as much and in the same way that she did, however, didn't make her jealous. It gave her peace.

Micheletto's head went deeper as he mistook the gesture for an answer. "I am sorry, my lady. I will…"  
>"Oh for once, Micheletto!" Touched by his devotion she had to laugh so she wouldn't cry. "I wish you would call me Lucrezia. Just once."<br>He frowned. "I do not think this is fit for someone like me."  
>She sighed, only half playing frustrated. "If it pleases you. But it certainly is fit that as a servant to me and my son you tell him goodbye as well." Before Micheletto could react she turned around and lifted Giovanni out of his crib.<p>

The boy frowned at being woken up, but his irritation turned to delight when Lucrezia placed him into Micheletto's arms. The assassin's face had changed completely. He seemed much younger now, and his expression made Lucrezia realize that they weren't as similar she had just believe. There was something that would always part Micheletto from her, from Cesare – or maybe it was the other way round, maybe it was something in her and Cesare that would always part them from the rest of the world.

Peace. She had seen it on his face before, the night after her father had almost died from Cantarella. She had been terrified then, worrying too much for his life to even think of any dangers to her own.  
>And then the lights had gone out in the court, and shadows had come running through the grass. They were moving fast, but not as fast as her heart beat when she had seen the reflection of the moon in a blade.<br>_The shame of her Borgia blood. _Whoever had tried to kill her father wanted to kill the whole family.

In that night, Lucrezia had become a child again, crying in her mother's skirts as Vanozza had led her to the back chamber and barred the doors, hushing her grandson as well as her daughter. Giovanni had cried, with exhaustion, cold and pain because Lucrezia had held him too tightly without even noticing it. She would not let go of him, but with him in her arms she knew they both would die.

Cesare had not even for one second looked at his nephew when they had found the women, nor at his mother. His eyes were undressing his sister with both sorrow and lust, and she had found herself trembling with more than just fear. Giovanni in her arms was heavy all of a sudden as he had fallen asleep at last.  
>Lucrezia loved her son with all her heart, but in this moment she needed to feel Cesare's arms around her. The first instinct was to hand her son to her mother, but Vanozza's eyes had been big with shock now that everything was over.<br>There was another pair of eyes in the dark. Micheletto. The mysterious brutal man Cesare had hired after almost being killed by him. More instinct than mind made Lucrezia put the baby into his waiting arms.  
>The man's eyes and face became gentle as once as he rocked him in his arms, smiling. When Lucrezia finally ran into her brother's embrace she knew that her son was as safe as she was now.<br>Only moments later Vanozza took Giovanni, and he started to cry again.

Lucrezia had tried to forget that night and the shame it carried. She had not fought but run away.  
>Looking back, though, it had not been the worst decision to make.<br>She sat down on the balcony, watching Micheletto making Giovanni laugh as the church bells rang. Micheletto tensed but never stopped smiling as he started humming. Giovanni seemed to know the melody, yawned happily and closed his eyes again. Lucrezia closed hers as well, floating away with the soft, sad tune. Eventually Micheletto started to sing, an old Italian song she had never heard before. Sad, as all great stories were, but not without beauty.

She opened her eyes when something rustled next to her, just in time to see Micheletto laying Giovanni down in his crib and kissing the boy's forehead. When he looked at Lucrezia, he was still beaming. "Thank you, my… Lucrezia."  
>She smiled. "I thank you, Micheletto. We both." Rather abruptly she extended her hand, and he kissed it again. Another thing they had in common, it seemed.<br>Neither liked farewells.

"Goodbye."  
>"Goodbye."<p> 


End file.
